


There Is No One Left

by isthisrubble



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Gen, M/M, Present Tense, Sad, Spoilers, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthisrubble/pseuds/isthisrubble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam notices someone in the cemetery grounds. A red-haired, female someone.<br/>‘Hell,’ says Steve, ‘what’s she doing here?’</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Is No One Left

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I rewatch _The Winter Soldier_ and spend the whole time trying to work out what Nat is thinking.  
>  Title from _The Secret Garden ___  
> Warning: Sad. Really sad. No fluff here.

Waverly isn’t a small town by any accounts, technically it’s a city, but it still makes the back of Sam’s neck prickle. He’s lived in big cities all his life, so country towns are the complete opposite of his thing. They’re not really Steve’s thing either, which makes this weird road-trip thing they’re on even weirder.

They’re only stopping overnight here, on their way to Charles City, so all that really matters is that the motel’s clean and they can restock their supplies. There’s been a sighting of the Winter Soldier in Charles City, or at least there seems to have been, but all they’re really going on is a hysterical blog entry that was written last week. Even if he was there, the chance of him still being there by the time they arrive is close to zero.

Sam is quietly worried they’ll never find him, that Steve’s running around the country chasing someone who doesn’t want to be found. That translates into worrying about Steve, because Steve has tied himself to the faint hope that they can get Bucky Barnes back, even though they both know deep down that Bucky is gone.

They’ve pulled up behind the cemetery and flattened the map out on the hood of the car to check the route (their GPS is the least reliable thing Sam has ever seen) when Sam notices… _someone_ in the cemetery grounds. A red-haired, female someone.

‘Steve, hey…’ Sam points her out because Steve’s eyesight is better than his, and because he’s ninety-nine-percent sure who it is already, he just needs confirmation.

‘Hell,’ says Steve, ‘what’s she doing here?’ and they’re still staring when Natasha stands up, wipes her hands on her jeans, turns and sees them.

They stare at each other, and Sam is reminded forcefully of being caught staring at the guys on the soccer team and hoping to God they didn’t realise _why_ he was staring. Finally Natasha looks down, does something with her hands. A second later, Steve’s phone goes off with a text.

_You might as well come in._

Sam and Steve exchange glances, because how often does your friend _(friend?)_ invite you into a random cemetery?

They find her ten minutes later, staring at a few graves that seem to be a set. One’s an old, double plot, the other two are newer. Sam reads:

_In loving memory of_

_Harold Charles Barton_

_1950 – 1980_

_Edith Francis Barton_

_1953 – 1980_

_"I will fear no evil for thou art with me." – Psalm 23_

The second one is a lot more bland, reading simply:

_Here lies_

_Charles Bernard Barton_

_1973 – 2006_

The one Natasha is looking at is the newest.

_In memory of_

_Clinton Francis Barton_

_1975 – 2014_

_Dearly beloved_

Beside Sam, Steve has gone very still.

‘He wouldn’t have wanted to be buried here.’ Natasha blinks furiously. ‘They didn’t tell me they were putting him here. I wouldn’t have let them.’

‘Nat, I didn’t realise…’

Natasha laughs. It sounds horrible. ‘Where did you think he was?’

‘I just though…’ Steve shakes his head. ‘What happened?’ His voice has gone impossibly soft.

‘The Taliban don’t like American spies.’ She’s biting the inside of her cheek. ‘I was in Italy. I couldn’t – I didn’t – _fuck.’_

It’s then that Sam suddenly realises who Clinton Francis Barton is. Was.

Steve swallows, and Sam wants to take his hand, hold him close. ‘I’m sorry, Natasha.’

‘I don’t need your pity,’ she spits back.

‘Do you honestly think I pity you?’

Natasha shakes her head. ‘I fooled myself into thinking that maybe we’d both survive. Stupid.’

There’s nothing more to say after that. They just stand there for a while, and Sam does take Steve’s hand when a single tear runs down his cheek. Sam feels almost like he’s interrupting something private, something sacred. He never knew Barton.

Natasha must have loved him.

* * *

 

She walks with them back to the car, and instinctively Sam says, ‘you can stick with us if you want.’

Nat smiles at him. It looks painful, but it also looks real. ‘Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’m better off alone for a while.’

She walks off before either of them can say goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so sorry. Feel free to scream at me in the comments.  
> (ps: all I know about Clint's family comes from Wikipedia)


End file.
